


You Smell Like Home

by ADAlternatively



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Bodyguard Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, But Reincarnation, Geralt has thought a lot, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jaskier Has A Lot Of Pasts, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Singer Jaskier | Dandelion, So not death in the sense that it's forever?!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22904623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADAlternatively/pseuds/ADAlternatively
Summary: Geralt is hired to bodyguard a singer for their upcoming tour. He meets with the singer at their apartment, only to find a very familiar face.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 23
Kudos: 410





	You Smell Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had this idea for a sweet little reincarnation fic. And thus this was born! I hope you enjoy!

Witcher’s are rare in this day and age. With technology advancing rapidly and monsters human 99% of the time, there is very little work for them. And those that still carry on the Witcher name are often ostracized and belittled by the same society that once begged for their help. So, Witcher’s put their knowledge to use elsewhere. Trading in their knowledge with swords and daggers for training with guns. They’ve protected mob families for decades, taken up jobs as armed guards, and spent long years serving countries that don’t value them as people. Some have spent years with scholars transcribing as much of the knowledge they’ve held since the beginning. Shedding light on what humans normally forget. The worst times, the times of heartache and damage and destruction. Humans are quick to forget what saved them in these times, Witchers and Witches. Those who hold chaos and mold it, control it. 

Geralt, unlike many other Witcher’s, didn’t turn to these things quickly. He traveled, he killed stray monsters, took small odd jobs in rural towns. He rarely ventured to the cities, especially once they started growing larger. He didn’t like not being able to see the sky. He didn’t like the noise and the smells and the people in the cities. They shied away from him, but not because they knew who he was, but because they didn’t trust him. Didn’t trust how solid and broad and undeterred he was by their glances. 

And the only reason he was in the city now was for a job. He’d folded, after years of refusing to turn to this, he’d decided he had no other choice. Monsters were so far and few between that it was no longer a viable job. So he’d taken up an offer to be a bodyguard for an up and coming singer. 

He had very few people he was close to anymore. He didn’t keep tabs on any of the other Witcher’s, and he kept his distance from Yennefer. Ciri was off doing her own things and Geralt wasn’t going to stand in her way. She was more than capable. So he stayed to himself. 

He sighed to himself as he entered the building in front of him, an apartment building, where he was to be meeting his ‘charge’. He smiled to himself as he realized this was a lot like when he found Ciri. His job was to protect the singer, keep them safe. It was something he could do. Something he was good at.

He made his way to the third floor, the elevator thrumming. He groans, looking into the mirror paneled wall. His hair is mostly pulled back into a messy bun, his undercut obvious. His tight grey long sleeve hiding the scars on his arms, his Witcher medallion laying on his chest. His jeans were more for convenience, tight but undeniably stretchy. His boots dark, and high laced. He was once described on the outskirts of the city as ‘a wannabe goth’, not that he understood what that meant. He didn’t particularly care either. With 

The elevator door slides open and he sighs. He walks down the dim hallway until he finds the door number he’d been told was the singers. He paused outside the door as he heard a voice from the inside singing and playing what he assumes is a guitar. He knocks three times and shoves his hands into his pockets. He hears the voice pause for a moment, before he hears the guitar being set down and the voice picks up, humming now. The door swings open and it takes him a moment to process the person in front of him.

It’s as if he’s had the breath knocked out of him. So when the man rolls his eyes after they widen just slightly. “Hello? You must be the new bodyguard. Geralt, right?” The man turns and walks into his apartment, a song already on his lips. He didn’t even acknowledge that Geralt hasn’t moved, isn’t breathing, looks like he’s dying. Standing in front of him was Jaskier. Or at least, someone who looked a lot like his previous bard.

“What the fuck...” Geralt whispers to himself as he walks into the room, shutting the door. “Yes... Geralt. And you are? They wouldn’t give me your name at the office.”

“Ah. Real names Julian. I don’t often go by that though. Jaskier is the name on my albums.” The man says. He’s picking up his guitar again and strumming on it. Geralt is confused. Uncomfortable. 

“Hmm.” He grunts, falling into old habits. He knew about the theories. That reincarnations were possible, but he’d never seen it like this before. Down to the name and everything. He felt the need to apologize. He hadn’t seen Jaskier after the mountain. He’d been a bit busy with Ciri and trying to get Nilfgaard off of their tail. He’d lost track of the years and by the time he went to search out his bard to apologize, he couldn’t find him. He’d assumed the worst and done his own mourning. Mourning that Ciri had eventually pulled him out of. It still hurt, thinking about what he said to the bard last. But now... He was right in front of him? But it wasn’t him, but it was?

“Ah, a real talker.” Jaskier says with a chuckle. “That’s fine. That’s fine. So. I’ve done my research on you Sir. You’re a Witcher. Geralt of Rivia, if my research serves me correctly.” Geralt’s heart is pounding, he can hear it over everything else. It’s deafening. “I couldn’t find much about you. But I did find some old songs that were about you! They were lovely, gorgeously written. All by a bard by the name of, well, the translated name of Dandelion.” He smiles to himself. “Beautiful really. Another flower.” He’s still strumming the guitar. The chords familiar in a way that has Geralt’s skin crawling. “He had so many amazing songs. That ‘Toss A Coin’ seems like it would have gotten a bit... Repetitive after a while.” He muses to himself, peering up at Geralt and gesturing to a chair for him to sit.

“It did.” Geralt huffs as he sinks into the chair. He’s not sure what is happening. “He didn’t go by Dandelion. At least not when we traveled together.” He gruffs out, it feels natural. Like he’s just talking with a friend. He tries to remind himself that this Jaskier is not his Jaskier. They’re not the same, no matter how much they are.

“Oh! Please do tell what he went by! I do love getting to know more about my predecessors!” Jaskier says, laying his guitar on his lap.

“He. Well.” Geralt pauses for a second. He’s trying to remember the stories about reincarnation, what not to do. He can’t remember anything. “It’s been a long time. But it wasn’t Dandelion.”

“Ah fine. Keep your secrets. I’ll work them out of you.” Jaskier says, shrugging. “Besides.” He pauses, staring off into the distance for a moment. “It’s not like they’re really secrets. Not when you’re trying to protect me.” He laughs and Geralt’s heart jumps to his throat.

“Hmm?” He’s more confused. What does that even mean?

“Oh, yes, I should explain. I know who you are. Not because you were hired to protect me, they didn’t give me your name either. Nor because you’re a famous Witcher. No, no, my friend. I know you because I’ve remembered every life I’ve ever lived. It’s what makes a great artist, isn’t it. Remembering the sad times. The good times. Reminiscing.” He smiles sadly, picking his guitar back up. “I go on tour in the next few weeks, if you would prefer me to keep myself out of your life as you wished on the mountain, I will find someone else to hire.” Geralt watches as Jaskier sways his way over to his window, smiling sadly out of it. “You can go Geralt. I wouldn’t want to shovel anymore shit.” His voice cracks, but his smile widens as he stares out at the bright city lights, strumming on his guitar. 

Geralt finally realizes the tune. It’s the song he never got to hear Jaskier perform. After he’d yelled at him on the mountain. His chest is tight. “Jask...” He says quietly, his voice unsure.

“Hmm.” Jaskier hums as he turns slightly. The tears in his blue eyes are obvious and Geralt is sure they are seeping into his lungs, drowning him. 

“I...” Geralt starts before standing up and walking over to him. “I’m sorry. About the mountain. About everything. I was never... I was never a decent friend to you, I wasn’t kind. And on the mountain I was an asshole. Worse than. I was upset at myself, at Yennefer, and Destiny. But I took it out on you. Because you were a constant I had grown used to. And I took that for granted. I looked for you... It was... It was too late. I had Ciri, and things were. Difficult. But I looked. No one knew where you went.” Geralt rambles, trying to show his bard that he was sorry, that he didn’t mean it. That he wanted him back in his life. “You. You were the best thing Destiny ever pulled into my life. And I’m not even sure Destiny had anything to do with it. You have a way of just doing whatever it is you want, and. Gods Jaskier, I’ve missed you.” His voice breaks now and he’s staring out the window so he doesn’t have to look into those blue eyes. “I’ve missed you. On the mountain after you left, I missed you.” He turns and looks at Jaskier, tears still in his eyes, his brows drawn tight. “I’m so sorry... For everything.” he whispers.

“You went looking for me...” Jaskier says quietly. “You never would have found me... Nilfgaard...” he mutters, quickly wiping his tears and shaking his head, as if to remove the memories. “It doesn’t matter.” He adds in, turning away from the window and putting the guitar down on his couch. “You don’t need to apologize. I knew you were upset. And I very rarely make things better.” He shrugs and keeps himself angled away from Geralt.

Geralt is fighting every instinct in his body. He wants to hug him, he wants to wrap his arms around him so he can’t disappear. “But I do need to apologize. Jaskier. I fucked up. And I pushed away the one person that cared about me through everything. The one person that didn’t fear me. The one person that thought I was a good person.” His voice is ragged, strained. “I fucked up. And I’ll leave if you truly want me to. But I need you to know that I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to lose you again. Not when it’s been so long since I’ve had you in my life.” Geralt is shaking, he can’t imagine walking out of that door, leaving behind the brightest thing his life has had in a long time. Ciri had been a beacon, but nothing could compare to the sun that Jaskier was. His smile like promises of summer days.

Jaskier turns towards him and shakes his head. “I’m not going to let you hurt me like that again. You were mean Geralt. Beyond mean, you were cruel. And not just on the mountain.”

“I was. And I do not deserve your forgiveness. I just want to be better Jask.” Geralt whispers. He’s afraid if he talks louder he’ll shatter. “I should have done this then. Realized this then. Said it then.” He looks up at Jaskier, catching his eyes. There are no more tears, but a sense of relief. A sense of knowing. “Jask. I love you. I’ve always loved you. For who you were, who you are. You’re so full of life. Of love. Of trust. You remember telling me I smelled of heartache and Destiny?” Geralt asks, keeping his eyes on Jaskier. He waits for him to nod and he continues. “You smell of summertime, and happiness. You smell of Destiny in the best of ways.” He walks forward, bringing his hands, his scarred hands, up to cup Jaskier’s face. He hears him exhale quietly as he cups his cheeks. “You smell like home.” He whispers as he leans his forehead against Jaskier’s.

Jaskier looks at him, his lashes long, sweeping along his cheeks as he blinks. “I missed you to, you dumb wolf you.” He throws his arms around Geralt’s shoulders and shoves his face into his shoulder. “Gods. Do you know how many life times I’ve tried to find you so I could slap you. Just for you to find me and pull out an apology and a confession.” He lets out a soft laugh, but Geralt can feel the tears hitting his shirt. “Gods, maybe these years have been good for you.”

“They were lonely. Quiet. Long.” Geralt murmurs, his hands wrapped tightly around his bard.

“Well, prepare for a lot of noise. Because, if you’re planning on joining me, there are over 20 shows on this tour. And, I’m not known for being quiet.” He can hear the smile in Jaskier’s voice.

“There is nowhere I would rather be.” Geralt murmurs.

Jaskier looks up at him and smiles, tear tracks down his cheeks. “You mean that, don’t you?”

Geralt nods, and leans his forehead against Jaskier’s once again. “I do.”

“Good.” Jaskier whispers, before leaning forward and kissing the Witcher.

Geralt kissed back.

And for the first time, in longer than he could remember.

He felt whole.

He felt safe.

He felt like he was home.

**Author's Note:**

> [Catch me on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/AndieDeclyn)


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